


LONG LONG WAY TO GO

by Rebel_Melinda



Series: FULL CIRCLE [8]
Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 02:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17195147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebel_Melinda/pseuds/Rebel_Melinda
Summary: Caution: Death of OC.  Sequel to Full Moon Night - Part of the Full Circle Series -*Lyrics from ‘A Long Long Way To Go’ (Phil Collins – No Jacket Required CD)





	LONG LONG WAY TO GO

**Author's Note:**

> Caution: Death of OC. Sequel to Full Moon Night - Part of the Full Circle Series -   
> *Lyrics from ‘A Long Long Way To Go’ (Phil Collins – No Jacket Required CD)

If he listened hard enough, he could hear the crash of the cold Pacific northwestern water as it cascaded over the dark rocks. But all Blair Sandburg could see when he looked to his left was the fast flowing water in its narrow riverbed.

He knew his visionscape was of his own creation, and he was amused that it resembled a merge of various camping spots that he and his partner had visited over the past few years.

Blair smiled when a familiar silver-grey wolf trotted up the river bank and shook from nose to tail, sending droplets of cold water in all directions. The nearby growl of a black jaguar indicated displeasure at being struck by the water.

The wolf eyed the jaguar and barked in amusement.

The jaguar rose from its reclining position and growled louder.

The wolf eyed the jaguar for several seconds then trotted to where Blair sat and stretched out next to the young shaman. The wolf's blue eyes rolled in the jaguar's direction as if daring the large cat to retaliate.

The jaguar slowly walked closer then curled up on the warm ground at Blair's crossed feet. He ignored the wolf except for his tail which arrogantly flipped in the wolf's direction.

Chuckling under his breath, Blair patted both animals. He glanced to his right where he knew several other spirit animals were partially concealed by a misty fog. "Please come and join us," he gently urged. 

Suddenly, the spirit animals next to Blair raised their heads and looked towards the nearby river. The wolf growled low in his throat then barked in warning. Surprisingly, the jaguar remained quiet as he edged closer to the shaman.

Blair looked towards the river but saw nothing but a faint reddish glow on the horizon.

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

Jim Ellison's day hadn't been a good one. It hadn't been particularly bad, but he'd been irritable all day. It seemed that nothing could go right. If he needed something printed, the printer jammed. Or his computer threw him out of the necessary program. If he needed a file from Records, all the clerks were in a meeting. 

And the vending machine in the break room was out of Snickers bars.

So it was with a silent sigh of relief that he closed the door of the loft behind him. He started to toss his keys into the basket then saw his partner sitting on the living room floor obviously meditating.

Jim gently laid the keys in the basket and hung his jacket on the peg next to the door. He secured his gun then turned to go into the kitchen.

He stopped and turned back to look at Blair. He blinked several times then walked towards the meditating young man. Glancing out the balcony windows, he saw the sun setting behind a haze of clouds. 

The sky surrounding the setting sun had turned a deep red, turning the surrounding clouds an almost sickening pinkish color. The light coming through the balcony windows was starting to bathe Blair in a reddish hue.

Jim dropped to one knee next to his partner. "Blair, come back. It's Jim. You need to come back now."

Years ago, Blair had instructed Jim on the best way to safely bring him out of a deep meditation. Now, Jim hurriedly tried to remember what else he could do.

"Blair, now. Please. You need to come back."

Blair slowly blinked, then blinked two more times. He turned his head and smiled.

"Come on, get up." Not waiting for Blair to respond, Jim rose and pulled his partner to his feet, away from the light streaming through the balcony windows.

"Huh....wha...mmm..."

"Come on. Sit in here." Jim led his dazed partner to the kitchen table and gently sat him on one of the chairs.

"Jim, what's..." Blair took a deep breath. "What's going on?"

For a split second, Jim panicked. "You didn’t look right," he quickly answered. "Like something was wrong."

Blair frowned. "I feel okay," he murmured.

"Sorry. I...I got scared," Jim admitted. "Let me get you some water." As he stood, he glanced back into the living room and saw the spot Blair had been sitting bathed in a warm yellow light. _‘Why am I so panicked? What’s going on here?’_

_'I must have really scared him.'_ Blair waited until Jim had reached him the bottle of water. "I really am okay.” When Jim nodded, he unscrewed the lid and took a deep drink. Sitting the bottle on the table, he continued. "I was with the wolf and jag. I think there were other spirit animals around." His blue eyes widened. "Come to think of it, something startled them. The wolf growled, and the jag got closer to me."

"What startled them?" Jim started to sit at the table, then frowned when the phone rang.

"I don't know," Blair admitted. He took another drink and frowned in thought.

"Ellison," Jim answered the phone. "When? How many? We’re on our way."

Blair had noticed Jim's change in attitude during the conversation and screwed the lid back on the bottle of water. His partner had made the jump from concerned friend to police officer on the move. "What is it?" he asked as he got to his feet.

"Standoff three blocks away at the People's Savings and Loan parking lot," Jim crisply explained as he retrieved his gun. "We'll get the rest of the story on the scene."

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

Captain Simon Banks quickly briefed his men as they stood behind the SWAT van and put on their Kevlar vests. "These three guys attempted to hijack the Mayor's limousine and grab His Honor while he was sitting at a red light. Fortunately, the Mayor's driver was able to activate the door locks before they could get in. Equally fortunately, their bullets bounced off the armor plating and bullet-proof windows."

Jim saw Blair fumbling with the straps on his vest and reached forward to help him. Blair ran his fingers through his hair and pulled it back into a ponytail.

"How did they get here?" Joel Taggart quietly asked.

Simon snorted. "The Mayor's protection detail didn't get them completely surrounded. They wound up chasing them here. That's when the guys with the automatic weapons grabbed an elderly couple using the ATM. They're holding them hostage in the station wagon."

"Why did they try to grab the Mayor?" Blair asked as he tried to wiggle the Kevlar vest into a more comfortable position.

"Who knows?" Simon sighed. "Quit fidgeting with that, Sandburg! It's not supposed to feel comfortable!" He glanced at his men. "We're here as back-up, gentlemen. Word has come down that this is SWAT's operation."

"Says who?" Joel frowned.

"His Honor to the Chief of Police to us." Simon rolled his dark eyes. "We're here to make sure they don't break containment." He saw Henri Brown and Brian Rafe jogging towards them. "Joel, brief Brown and Rafe and get them into Kevlar. Jim, report to Captain Billings for position assignment. Sandburg..."

"Gotcha. With Jim." Without another word, Blair followed his partner.

"Why do I even try?" Simon growled under his breath.

Minutes later, Jim and Blair had taken cover behind a stone wall that surrounded the bank's parking lot. A break in the wall allowed for cars to enter and leave the parking lot. Two uniformed officers were crouched on the other side of the break.

"Hey, Ellison. Nice of you to join the party."

"Couldn't refuse the invitation, Neil. Sandburg, this is Sgt. Neil Ward. He was my supervisor when I did my stint in Patrol. Neil, my partner, Blair Sandburg."

Neil's pale green eyes briefly studied Blair who smiled. 

"So you're the one who whipped him into shape, huh?" Blair asked.

Neil snorted. "No, I'm the one who got him out of Patrol and off my hands." He nodded towards the young man next to him. "My partner, Danny Spencer, fresh out of the Academy."

"How you doing, Blair?" The young blonde haired man greeted with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

"Oh, man, Danny, what a way to meet up,” Blair groaned.

Neil glanced from one young man to the other. "I take it you two know each other?"

"We were at the Academy together. I never would have made it out of Reports if Blair hadn't worked with me," Danny admitted with a grin.

"So you're the one I have to thank for his spit-and-polish way of writing reports, huh?" Neil smirked. He glanced over Jim's shoulder. "Heads up. Brass coming."

Jim turned to see Simon taking a position next to him.

"Orders are to hold position," Simon advised loud enough for Neil and Danny to hear. "We've got a couple of birds in the air, but so do the news media." All five men glanced upwards. "Apparently, they've refused to leave the air space."

"Damn vultures," Neil grunted.

Jim wearily shook his head.

Danny started to say something then glanced at Blair and ruefully shrugged.

"I guess this isn't the time to get into a debate about the First Amendment, huh?" Blair innocently asked.

Simon lowered his voice and leaned closer to Jim. "Can you hear anything from them?"

Blair half turned towards his partner so their bodies lightly touched. "Tune out the police frequencies. Now tune out the background noise...police talking...the helicopters overhead...focus on that station wagon..."

_’Listen to me! If we’re dead, we can't say anything! They'll call us crazy and just forget about us! But alive, we can get our word out! Then everyone will know!’_

_’No one's gonna believe us! The best chance we had was to have the Mayor speak for us!’_

_’They'll have to let us speak at our trial! They won't have a choice!’_

_’Fine! You want to give up? Go ahead! Take the old woman with you so they won't shoot you on sight. But I'm stayin' here.’_

_’Me, too.’_

"One of them is giving up, Captain," Jim quietly reported. "He's bringing one of the hostages with him. The elderly woman." Jim opened his eyes to see Blair smiling at him.

"Way to go, man," Blair whispered.

"I'm coming out! Giving up! I'm bringing the old lady with me! Don't shoot!"

Everyone took their positions and watched as one of the attempted kidnappers emerged from the station wagon. He reached back in and helped the elderly woman step out of the car.

The kidnapper kept his right hand in the air and the left on the old woman's arm as they slowly began walking across the parking lot. It was obvious that the woman was frightened and sobbing.

Suddenly a shot rang out.

The kidnapper stiffened and fell to the pavement, dragging the elderly woman down with him. A second bullet ricocheted off the pavement close to the screaming woman.

"Fire!"

Shots rang out from two locations sending bullets flying towards the kidnappers.

The elderly man sitting in the driver's seat slumped forward.

The kidnapper sitting behind the elderly man jerked to his left.

The remaining kidnapper sent automatic fire spraying across the parking lot.

Danny jumped over the stone wall and ran towards the elderly woman. He threw himself across her body just as a bullet sliced through his head.

"Danny!" Neil screamed.

Jim quickly sighted his weapon and fired.

Simultaneously, a SWAT sniper fired again.

Then there was silence.

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

"That poor boy saved my life." The elderly woman sobbed as she was lifted into the back of the ambulance. "I'm an old woman, and he was so young. That poor boy was so young. The young shouldn't die before the old."

Jim silently watched as the ambulance pulled away, siren screaming for traffic to get out of its way.

"Jim?"

"I missed the shot."

Simon shook his head. "Only because the sniper got him first. The force of his bullet moved him." He sighed. "Your bullet didn't hit the old man, either. The kidnapper sitting behind him did that."

"Yes, sir." Jim turned his head to see his partner sitting next to the sheet-draped figure of the dead police officer. Blood from Danny’s shattered head pooled next to Sandburg.

"Damn fool kid was barely old enough to buy a beer." Neil sorrowfully shook his head. "He would've made a hell of a cop one day." He took a deep breath. "Now I gotta go tell his family that he's not coming home tonight."

Jim closed his eyes as Neil walked towards his commander.

"Jim?"

"Sir?"

"I'd tell you to take your partner home, but we need your statements as soon as possible. Let's get Sandburg."

"Yes, sir."

Slowly, they walked to where Blair sat next to Danny’s body. Jim knelt and gently put a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "C'mon, Sandburg. We need to go."

"No. I'm not leaving him just laying here."

"They've got..."

"I don't give a damn about keeping the integrity of a crime scene!" Anger blazed in Blair's blue eyes. "I'm not leaving him to lay here while those reporters in the sky take pictures of it!" He looked around. "And where's his partner anyway? Why isn't he here?"

"He's gone to notify Danny's family," Jim quietly explained.

"His father is an ex-cop. He works as a security adviser for a buncha companies. His mom is a special ed teacher. He's got two sisters. Amy is in pre-med, and Judith is getting married in two months." Blair took a deep breath and whispered. "Danny didn't really want to be a cop but didn't know what he wanted to do. But his dad wanted him to follow in his footsteps. So he was going to be a cop for a while until he made a decision about his future." He looked at his partner. "But he doesn't have a future, does he?"

Jim slowly sat next to his friend. "Okay, we'll sit here until they get him into an ambulance. It'll be pretty soon. Nobody wants to leave him like this."

Blair sniffed and wiped tears from his cheeks, unknowingly painting a red streak of blood on his face.

Simon shook his head as he stared at the carnage. "Son of a bitch," he muttered.

Jim could only silently agree.

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

"The attempted kidnappers have been identified as Samuel Jenkins, aged 27, Michael Kraft, aged 30, and Dennis Anderson, aged 26. So far, law enforcement has found no links to any terrorist groups although they caution that the investigation is just beginning."

"Now there's the knee-jerk reaction we knew was coming," Blair angrily snorted at the television. "Let's tie everything in to terrorism so we can enact some repressive laws against civil liberty." He raised the small bottle of orange juice to his lips and swallowed several times.

"Samuel Jenkins was a freelance writer who contributed articles on inner city poverty to several mainstream magazines such as Time and the Christian Science Monitor. He leaves a mother and two brothers. They are in seclusion and have refused to speak with the media."

"Smart people." Blair raised his juice bottle in a sardonic salute.

"Michael Kraft also worked freelance, but as a computer programmer. He specialized in writing software for video games. According to those willing to speak with us off camera, his current project was a fantasy game based on a sword and sorcery concept. He leaves behind his parents and one sister. They issued a statement to the media stating they no of know reason why he would have tried to kidnap the Mayor."

"Maybe as a protest because the Mayor spent more money last year on entertainment than on social programs?" Blair snorted.

"Dennis Anderson worked part time as a physical therapist at the VA Hospital in Cascade. His supervisor, Melissa Filmer, said that Anderson was highly regarded by both his coworkers and the patients. He leaves a widowed mother and three sisters. They have also declined to speak with the media and apparently are refusing to speak with law enforcement at this time. Sources report that Mrs. Anderson has been sedated."

"Good for her," Blair muttered as he picked at the label on the juice bottle.

"Although the investigation has just begun, this is what we know. These three men attempted to kidnap the Mayor. When they failed, they were chased by members of the Mayor's protection units, who are members of the Cascade Police Dept., into the parking lot of the People's Savings & Loan. They entered the vehicle of Robert and Hannah Isham."

Blair curled up on the couch and rested his head on the cushion behind him.

"After being surrounded by the Cascade Police Dept., Anderson left the vehicle with Hannah Isham in an attempt to surrender. He was, however, shot by one of the two remaining kidnappers. One of the kidnappers then killed Daniel Isham while the other opened fire attempting to shoot Hannah Isham who had fallen to the pavement."

Blair drained the last of the juice from the bottle.

"At that point, Officer Daniel Spencer, a rookie with the CPD, ran to Hannah Isham's  
assistance. He was then shot and killed by one of the kidnappers. Almost at the same time, CPD SWAT snipers killed Kraft and Jenkins."

Blair twisted the lid back onto the empty juice bottle and squeezed the plastic in a hard grip.

"Robert Isham, aged 83, was pronounced dead at the scene as was Officer Daniel Spencer, aged 22. Hannah Isham, aged 85, was transported to Cascade General Hospital where she suffered a massive and fatal heart attack two hours later. The Ishams leave two grandchildren and several great-grandchildren. Officer Spencer leaves parents and two sisters. We have exclusive video of the stand-off, but caution our viewers that this is explicit footage although we have edited the most violent scenes."

"Oh give me a break! How many times are you going to show that footage, Don Haas?! Huh!"

"Turn it off, Chief. They're going to show it until something worse comes along."

Blair furiously jabbed is forefinger onto the power button on the remote control then threw it to the opposite side of the couch. He glanced over his shoulder at the darkened upper bedroom of the loft. "Didn't mean to keep you awake."

"You're not."

Blair sat in silence for several minutes then got to his feet. He walked into the kitchen and rinsed out the empty bottle before placing it in the recycling bin. He checked the locks on the door and turned out the lights. He paused at the foot of the steps, then slowly walked upstairs.

"Maybe I was lucky not having a father," he quietly spoke.

Jim rolled over so he was facing the steps. "How so?"

"Nobody to pressure me into going into any family business or taking his place." Blair studied his friend. "Did your dad want you to do that?"

Jim snorted. "By the time I was old enough to start thinking about a future career, the last thing I wanted was to be like my old man. As for what he wanted..." He shrugged. 

"He'd probably like it if you weren't doing such a dangerous job," Blair softly replied.

"Probably. But I guess most families feel like that," Jim acknowledged. "You want to stay up here tonight?"

Blair shook his head. "I'd just keep you awake."

Jim patted the mattress behind him. "Give it a try, Chief. Maybe we'll both sleep better."

Blair hesitated, then got in on the opposite side of the bed. After a moment, he rolled onto his side facing Jim and curled into a small ball. He stared at his partner's back and wondered if Jim was asleep. Then he closed his eyes and tried not to think of anything at all.

Hours later, Jim fell asleep, only to dream of his partner sitting in a pool of blood red light.

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

Jim saw Simon talking with a tall willowy brunette as they emerged from the elevator. The woman, who looked to be in her early 40's, nodded when Simon pointed down the hall. Shifting her briefcase from her left to her right hand, she walked down the hall.

Turning, Simon entered the bullpen and glanced around. With the exception of Jim and Blair, everyone had their heads down and seemed to industriously working. Yet there was no banter back and forth between the detectives, and the atmosphere seemed oppressive.

Blair was staring at his computer monitor, apparently entranced by the CPD logo on the screen.

Jim was staring at Simon, as though expecting to receive bad news.

_'He'll probably see it that way, too.'_ Simon took a deep breath and raised his voice. "I'd like to have your attention, everyone." He waited until everyone was looking at him. "Interrogation room 5 is will be occupied by Dr. Leigh Pinotti. She’s an associate of Dr. Singh, the department psychologist. Dr. Singh is unavailable because of personal reasons so several of his colleagues will be available to the department for mandatory counseling sessions. I'll let you work out your own scheduling as to when you talk with her. But you will be doing it today. Any questions?" Simon waited for any other questions. When he didn’t get any, he continued, "Dan Wolf’s releasing Officer Spencer’s body early today. The visitation will be tonight with the funeral tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" Rafe looked angry. "That's kind of rushing things, isn't it?"

"Apparently Officer Spencer’s father doesn't want this turning into any more of a circus than it looks like it'll be. He's requested that the department keep the media as far away as possible," Simon explained. "He's of the opinion that the longer the time until the funeral, the more the press will intrude on their grieving."

Simon could see the obvious disapproval on the younger detective's face. "Unless someone has any objections, I'll take the 9 o'clock slot with Dr. Pinotti." 

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

"Good morning, Dr. Pinotti."

"Good morning, Captain Taggart. Please sit down."

Joel quietly pulled out a chair and glanced around the small room. "Well, I've never seen that in an interrogation room."

Leigh smiled as she glanced at the table to her left. A large coffee urn, mugs, a pitcher of cream, a bowl of sugar, and an assortment of bakery snacks covered a small table. "That's because I don't want this to seem like an interrogation room."

Joel smiled and mentally wished the psychologist good luck. "I'm not sure why I'm included in the counseling sessions. I didn't take that call."

"You were on duty elsewhere?"

Joel shook his head. "It was my day off. Actually, I'd taken some flowers to my wife's grave and decided to spend the rest of day in the park. Just me and a good book."

"What are you reading?"

"The New Testament."

"Is your wife recently deceased?"

"She died about five months ago. We'd been separated for nearly two years when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Unfortunately, by the time it was detected, she was beyond anything the doctors could do." Joel sighed and twisted his fingers together. "She had the absurd idea that as long as a doctor didn't tell her she was sick, there was nothing wrong with her. You got sick when a doctor told you that you were sick."

"I remember my grandfather saying pretty much the same thing," Leigh nodded. "Her illness brought about reconciliation?"

Joel hesitated. "I suppose you could call it that. We never had children and both of us were only children. There was no one else to look after her. So I took a leave of absence to care for her."

"I admire you. Given the situation between the two of you, not many people would do that," Leigh admitted. “Your faith sustained you?"

Joel nodded. "I was raised in a very religious household. But after Vietnam and time here in the department, I suppose you could say that I fell away. But during Irene's illness...or perhaps because of it...I began reading the Bible again. And I found comfort."

"Did you know Officer Spencer?"

"No, I never had the pleasure. I'm acquainted with his partner, Sgt. Ward, but never actually worked with him."

"In your opinion, how are your co-workers handling this situation?" Leigh asked. 

"Shock. Anger. Grief.” Joel hesitated. “To be honest, it doesn't help that the media is focusing so much on what happened."

Leigh leaned forward. "Do you think the media should ignore it?"

"I just don't think it helps to graphically replay a tragedy. It seems very insensitive to keep thrusting it into people's faces. Especially those who knew that young man. How do you think his family feels to see that on every news broadcast?" Joel shook his head. "I think there should be a better way to accomplish the purpose of informing the public." Then he smiled. "In my humble opinion, of course."

Leigh smiled. "Of course."

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

"Would you like some coffee, Captain Banks?"

"No thank you, Doctor." Simon sat in the chair and forced himself to relax.

Leigh studied the man sitting across the desk from her. "How do you deal with the stress of command?"

Simon shrugged. "However you can. I know some commanders who get a lot of use out of the gym or boxing ring. I know one man over the fire department who's a marathon runner."

"How do **you** deal with the stress of command?"

Simon sighed. He slowly removed his glasses and cleaned them. "By finding something positive to concentrate on. If I can find it within the situation, fine. If not...well, I look a picture of my son."

Leigh smiled. "How old is he?"

"Seventeen. He'll be a senior in high school next year," Simon proudly answered.

"So all you do is look at his picture?"

Simon put his glasses back on. "I'm developing a fondness for gardening," he admitted. "My son tells me he knows when something's gone wrong when he sees I've planted a new bush in the yard."

"Did you know Officer Spencer?"

Simon shook his head. "I knew his father slightly. Chris Spencer is a former cop. We worked together a couple of times."

"Do you think you could have done a better job if you had been in command?" Leigh quietly asked.

Simon frowned. "Second quessing command decisions is a popular pastime. The media was doing it within hours of that standoff when practically no information had been released." He snorted. "Second guessing! More like speculation to get ratings if you ask me."

"You have a problem with the media?"

"When they do their jobs in a responsible manner, no. When they act like a pack of jackals on the hunt, yes." Simon waited for a response.

"You didn't answer the question about if you think you could have done a better job," Leigh finally pointed out.

"That's because there is no right or wrong answer," Simon softly answered. "Good men were in command that day. Good officers were on the ground. But...sometimes..." He deeply sighed. "Sometimes that just isn't enough."

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

“You must find Cascade very different from New South Wales."

Megan Conner smiled and nodded. "I knew the procedures would be different, but you Americans have a definite love of paperwork."

"I can't argue about that," Leigh chuckled as she set a coffee mug in front of Megan. "Did you have problems fitting in?"

Megan sipped her coffee then shrugged. "No more than any new person becoming a part of an established group. You know, the new kid in school type of thing."

Leigh sat and sipped her coffee as well. "And being the only woman in the squad?"

Megan shrugged. "All police forces are predominantly male. That's no different here than back home."

"How do you feel the members of the squad are handling what happened?"

Megan frowned. "They're angry. Even though most of them didn't know Officer Spencer, there's going to be anger anytime an officer is killed. The fact that he was so young just makes it worse. But I think once the funeral is over, things will get better."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then I'm sure Captain Banks will take suitable action." Megan met the other woman's eyes and waited.

Leigh smiled and sipped her coffee.

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

"Woman gives me the shivers," Megan muttered as she walked past Jim's desk.

Jim grunted.

"I mean how are you supposed to have a conversation with someone who just sits there and stares at you?" Megan complained as she sat at her desk. She irritably reached for the pink phone message notes on her desk. "She's just lucky Rhonda's on vacation. She'd turn her into Jello."

Henri snickered.

"Laugh it up, H," Jim sourly advised. "Aren't you next?"

Brown snorted and reached for his jacket. “Not until after lunch, my man. I feel a need to fortify myself with a big juicy burger.”

Jim quickly glanced around. Not spotting his partner, he stood and grabbed his own jacket. “I’ll go with you. Conner, tell Sandburg I went to lunch with Brown to give him some moral support.”

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

“Moral support, my ass! He’s pigging out at Wonderburger, isn’t he?”

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

‘Good afternoon, Detective Brown. Would you like anything to drink?"

"No, thanks. I just got back from lunch." Henri eased himself down into the chair and tried to relax.

"I understand you were one of the officers who responded to the call at the Savings and Loan."

"Yes, ma'am. However, my partner and I were assigned to the far perimeter," Henri explained. "We couldn't see what happened. We...uh...just heard about it over the radios. Well...and heard the shots."

"How did you feel when you heard the shots?" Leigh asked.

Henri started to answer then frowned. Sitting quietly for a few moments, he slowly answered, "Any time you're in a situation like that and hear shots fired, you know something violent is happening. You hope no one will get hurt, but then you're determined to make sure that you and your partner don't get hurt."

"And this goes through your mind just like that?" Leigh briskly snapped her fingers.

Henri nodded. "That's part of our training."

"And when you heard about Officer Spencer's death?"

Henri sighed. "You feel like you failed when anyone dies. But, yeah, it’s especially hard to accept that failure when it's one of your own lyin' there." 

"How do you deal with that kind of failure?"

"Music."

"Music?" Leigh leaned back in her chair.

"Yeah, I play guitar. Tinkle the ivories a bit. I can even play a little trumpet if you don't mind the mistakes," Henri grinned. "I have a sound system at home that absolutely kicks ass." He coughed and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Sorry."

Leigh smiled.

"Anyway, on bad days, I go home, slap on the earphones, and crank that baby up," Henri explained. "You see, music should move you. Make you happy. Let you cry. Hell, **make** you cry. It should raise you up so high and then drop you to your knees with its beauty then do it over and over until you're gasping for breath."

"You use music as a catharsis," Leigh calmly stated.

"Yeah," Henri nodded, a bit in surprise. Then he nodded a second time. "Yeah...a catharsis." He stared at the psychologist. "I catharsized a lot last night."

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

"Look, I'll give you a break. No evasions. No misdirections. I'm mad as hell."

Leigh raised her eyebrows. "I admit that's different, Detective Rafe."

"Yeah, well, I've got a specific reason to be pissed off." He leaned forward, tapping his right forefinger on the table. "Did you know that Officer Spencer's family is burying him **tomorrow**?" He leaned back in his chair. "They're sure not wasting any time, are they?"

Leigh frowned in thought. "I presume this isn't because of religious reasons? There **are** some religious beliefs that require a quick burial."

Rafe shook his head. "The family doesn't want the media spotlight on them any longer than necessary."

"Isn't that understandable?" Leigh quietly asked.

Rafe snorted. "How about showing some respect for the deceased? I'm sorry, but shoving him into his grave less than 48 hours after he was killed doesn't show respect to me." He ran his left hand through his hair. "My grandmother would have called it indecent haste."

Leigh chuckled. "The last time I heard that was from an elderly relative who was commenting on how quickly two people had gotten married."

Rafe half-smiled. "Yeah, that’s just what my grandmother would have said." He sighed. "Look, I didn't know Spencer. And that doesn't really matter. I just think it seems disrespectful to bury anybody so quickly. Like he had the plague or something."

"Or..." Leigh gently prodded after several seconds of silence.

"Or like he never existed or didn't matter," Rafe mumbled. "He's dead so let's shove him under the ground as quickly as we can and get on with our lives." He shook his head. “Like I said...I didn't know Spencer; and I don't know his family. I'm sure they're grieving, and this is their way of handling it." He sighed again. "I just don't agree or approve," he stubbornly added.

"Will that prevent you from going to the funeral?"

"No," Rafe answered in surprise. "Absolutely not. I'll go to honor Officer Spencer, his life, and his sacrifice."

"And..." Leigh prompted again.

"And to remember him."

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

Blair glared at his partner as Rafe trudged back to his desk. "You know the silent treatment doesn't work. Even I can smell Wonderburger on your breath."

"Hey, Brown needed some moral support before talking to the shrink." Jim glanced at Rafe who was nodding at something Henri was showing him. "Although it looks like Rafe's the one who needs a friendly face."

Diverted, Blair studied their friend. "Maybe I can talk to him when I get back," he offered.

Jim half-smiled. "I'm sure it'll help." He turned his attention back to the open file on his desk. "You're good at that sort of stuff."

Blair looked at his partner in surprise, then narrowed his eyes. "Flattery won't get you out of my little upcoming rant. This is the third time this week that you've had Wonderburger," he hissed.

Jim sighed. "Okay, I get the point, Sandburg. You don't need to use a baseball bat to beat it into my head."

Blair glanced down the hall towards the interrogation rooms then reluctantly stood. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to nag. Okay?"

Jim looked up with a sad smile. "Okay. We're all just..." He glanced at Rafe then back at his partner. "We're all just off-kilter right now."

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

"Blair Sandburg. Nice to meet you."

Leigh took the offered hand and shook it twice. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Sandburg. There’s coffee on the table if you’d like some.”

"No, thanks,” Blair suddenly smiled. "And call me, Blair."

"Okay, Blair. Call me Leigh." As the psychologist sat down, she studied the young man who sat across the table from her. "I understand you are the only one in Major Crime who actually knew Officer Spencer."

"Yeah, Danny and I attended the Police Academy together. I'm a civilian consultant to the PD, but I work mostly with Major Crime. But to do that, I needed to complete some courses at the Academy. Danny was in those classes, and we became friends."

"Had you seen him since the Academy?"

Blair shook his head. "Things got kinda busy. And that's one reason I feel bad, I guess. How hard would it have been to give him a call to see how he was doing, you know?"

"Everyone makes decisions about what’s important and what isn't," Leigh pointed out.

Blair shrugged. "When someone dies, it's only natural to think that you should’ve stayed in touch more. I mean, I **know** that life's short; and you can't take time for granted."

"You were there when Officer Spencer was killed?" Leigh questioned.

"Oh yeah." Blair took a deep breath. "Danny got a bullet in the head. I knew then and there that he was dead." He rested his forearms on the table. "We were all wearing Kevlar, but that didn't help ‘cause he got hit in the head. So it could have been any of us."

"Does that frighten you?"

"Sure. I mean, I don't want to die," Blair admitted. _'Been there...done that...don't need a rerun.'_ He shrugged. "Nobody wants to see their friends get killed either."

"Yet, that's part of the job," Leigh quietly spoke. When Blair nodded, she continued, "How are you coping?"

"Normally I'd meditate, but I haven't been able to do that," Blair automatically answered.

"Why not?"

Blair met her eyes. "I just haven't been mentally settled enough to get any good out of it."

"Are you going to try tonight?"

Blair hesitated. " I honestly don't know. I'm going to the visitation tonight. I guess it’ll depend on how it goes at the funeral home, I guess. But, yeah, sooner or later, I will."

"If you feel it helps you, then you should to it. And I would advise you do it sooner rather than later," Leigh firmly advised.

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

"Good afternoon, Detective Ellison. Won't you please sit down?" Leigh watched as the detective sat ramrod straight in the chair opposite her. "Would you care for any coffee? This isn't an interrogation, you know."

"Isn't it?"

"Only if you want to make it one," Leigh assured him. "If it helps to call it a debriefing, we can do that."

Jim snorted. "Just ask your questions, Doctor."

Leigh nodded. "All right. You’ve had command experience. In your professional opinion, could the situation have been handled better?"

"There's no way to accurately answer that question. I have no idea what happened before I arrived on the scene or what information the command structure had that may or may not have influenced their decisions."

Leigh silently stared at him. "I'm sorry, Detective Ellison, but that answer really sounded like it came from a bad movie."

Jim took a deep breath. "But it's an accurate answer."

Leigh nodded in silent agreement. "Do you think society is getting more and more violent?"

"Or more accepting of violence," Jim answered.

"Then do you anticipate being seeing more and more situations like that one where Officer Spencer was killed?"

Jim briefly closed his eyes. "Sometimes I wonder if we don't need more of a jungle mentality. Meet force with force. Make your opponent too afraid of retaliation to break the rules." Then he sighed. "But then I realize that won't work here."

"Why not?"

"Because that's jungle mentality, and this isn't the jungle," Jim answered.

"Are you sure?"

_'And I know what you are. Welcome to the jungle.'_

Jim rubbed his eyes, trying to erase the memory of Alex Barnes.

"Are you feeling well, Detective?"

"Just a headache," Jim mumbled. "It's been a long day."

"And it's going to be long night."

"What?" Startled, Jim looked at the psychologist.

"Your partner mentioned going to the visitation at the funeral home tonight. I assumed you were going with him."

"Yeah, I'm going," Jim nodded with a sigh. "I guess I'd just shoved **that** thought to one side."

"That's understandable," Leigh nodded. "So, Detective, you feel that society is either getting more violent or more acceptable of the violence?"

"Yeah...I mean, it stands to reason, doesn't it?" Jim frowned. "If the perps had survived, wouldn't there be people lining up to make excuses for them? Bad childhoods? Poor social coping skills? Economic disadvantages?" His blue eyes narrowed. "You know, stuff like that from psychologists?"

"Touche," Leigh admitted. "So you think society is willing to accept those excuses rather than expect accountability?"

"It's easier, isn't it? Blame someone or something else? So people can relieve themselves of their own responsibility? Push all the responsibility onto somebody else?" Jim demanded.

"Then what can the police do? To protect society? To protect themselves?"

Jim sat quietly for almost a full minute. "Not a hell of a lot," he finally answered.

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

Simon glanced up at the knock on his door. "Come in," he called out. He refrained from grimacing when Leigh entered his office and gently closed the door behind her. "Have a seat, Doctor."

"That's not necessary. I won't take much of your time," Leigh smiled. She noticed the figurines on the nearby bookcase. "May I?" As she studied them, she asked, “Have you been collecting them for very long?”

Simon nodded. "I started collecting the black angels several years ago. The one on the far left is one that my mother left to me. The family story is that her great-grandfather began carving it the day he became a free man."

Leigh turned back to Simon. "Since Officer Spencer's funeral is tomorrow, I thought that I would come back in case anyone needed to talk. Or vent." She smiled. "With your permission, of course."

Simon frowned. "Do I need to have any concerns?"

"I don't see anything out of the ordinary," Leigh briefly answered. "Some people are angry. Some are sad. Others, who are more emotionally distanced from the situation or the deceased officer, seem capable of handling this tragedy and helping their co-workers handle it." She shrugged. "Of course, funerals can be very emotional. That's why I would like to return tomorrow."

"Then I guess I'll see you tomorrow, Doctor."

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

The parking lot at Ferrell's Mortuary was jammed. Jim impatiently waited until a car had backed out, then pulled into a parking space at the far end of the lot.

"Quite a turnout," Blair quietly commented.

"Yeah, a lot of cops' funerals are here," Jim sighed. "They must give a discount or something."

"Jim!"

Jim closed his eyes and dropped his head. "I'm sorry, Sandburg." He rubbed both eyes. "I've just got a headache that won't quit."

"We can go home," Blair offered after a few seconds.

"No." Jim took a deep breath and sat up. "Spencer was your friend. And he was a good man who died in the line of duty. We need to pay our respects."

Blair glanced over his shoulder at the crowded entrance to the funeral home. "It may take a long time to get through that line."

"Then we need to get started." Jim automatically straightened his tie. He saw Blair's worried look and forced a smile. "I'm fine, Chief. We'll pay our respects then I'll make an early night of it, okay?"

Blair nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good to me, too."

Fortunately, the line to pay their respects to Danny's family wasn't as long as they had expected. Jim nodded when Blair whispered for him to dial down his sense of smell. As usual, the overpowering floral scent from all the flower arrangements was almost enough to send the Sentinel reeling.

As the line shuffled forward, Jim wearily listened to the soft murmurs of other people's voices and tried to ignore the sounds of their shock and grief. When they approached the coffin, he put a hand on Blair's back for support. He was surprised to see one older woman and two younger women accepting condolences at the head of the closed coffin. _'Wonder where Spencer's father is?'_

"Mrs. Spencer, I'm Blair Sandburg. I'm so sorry."

"I remember Danny talking about you," Clara Spencer dabbed at her reddened eyes with a tissue. "He was so very grateful for the tutoring assistance you gave him at the Academy."

"I was glad to help him. He was my friend," Blair met her reddened eyes. He indicated Jim. "This is my partner, Detective Jim Ellison."

"My condolences, Mrs. Spencer," Jim softly spoke.

"Thank you, Detective. These are my daughters, Judith and Amy."

Both men spoke quietly to the two younger women then walked away. Blair looked over his shoulder at the closed coffin then shivered. _'Somebody walking over my grave?'_ Shaking his head, he gently tugged on Jim's arm. "C'mon. Let's get you home."

Silently, Jim nodded. He thankfully breathed the cool air when they exited the building.

"You've got some nerve showing up here!"

Surprised, both men turned around at hearing the angry words. They saw Neil Ward being confronted by a furious man. 

"You were Danny's partner! You were supposed to look out for my boy! To protect him! Where the hell were you?"

"Oh, God," Blair murmured. He hurried forward and edged between the two men. "Mr. Spencer, Neil..."

"Wasn't doing his job!" Danny's anguished father shouted. His salt-and-pepper hair was tousled and the tie of his suit was dangling from around his neck. "When I was a cop, we looked out for the rookies!"

"I tried," Neil wearily argued. "But he..."

"Don't you dare blame my boy for this!"

"Dad!" Judith Spencer grabbed her father's arm. "Dad!" She got in front of him and forced him to look at her. "Momma needs you. She's getting tired."

Chris Spencer nodded and turned away. He stumbled once and waved away Jim's silent  
offer of help.

Judith wiped her eyes and turned to Neil. "I'm sorry. He doesn't know what he's saying. No one blames you, Neil."

"I blame me," Neil quietly answered. "But thank you."

Judith hesitated, then followed her father back inside the funeral home.

"Neil, she's right. It wasn't your fault," Blair softly spoke.

"Maybe," Neil shrugged. "Maybe I'm just getting too old to keep up with you youngsters." He nodded to himself. "Maybe I need to retire."

"Don't make any sudden decisions," Blair urged.

Neil sadly smiled. "I won't, Sandburg. In fact, I'm going to call my pastor when I get home. It won’t be the first time I’ve called him late at night."

"And if you can't reach him, you promise me that you'll call me," Jim demanded.

Neil smiled. "Don't worry, Ellison. I'm not going to eat a bullet. But I really think it may be time for me to get out of this racket." He patted Blair's arm and nodded at Jim. "I'll probably see you both tomorrow."

They silently watched as the older man walked away.

"Jim, should we just let him go?" Blair whispered.

"Neil's a man of his word. If he says he'll call his pastor, then he will," Jim assured him. With a sigh, he turned towards the truck. "C'mon, Sandburg. Let's go home. I’m really tired."

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

When Blair emerged from the bathroom after his shower, he stopped and smiled. Jim lay stretched out on the couch, fast asleep. _‘Good. At least he’s getting some rest.’_

It didn’t take Blair much effort to put his minor in psychology to work to realize that Jim had taken Danny’s death pretty hard. _‘Maybe it wouldn’t have hit him so hard if I hadn’t been there or if I’d had more time as an ‘official partner’. I’d bet his lunch at Wonderburger today that he’s seeing me in Danny’s place.’_

After a moment, Blair went into his bedroom, then returned with his meditation candles. He quickly lit the candles then waited to make sure Jim remained deeply asleep. Sitting cross-legged between the couch and coffee table, Blair took a deep breath then slowly released it…then began to meditate.

When Blair opened his eyes, he saw that his visionscape had changed. It was obvious a storm was approaching from the east. Almost in awe, Blair watched the rolling blood red clouds gather then separate, riding the wild currents of the winds.

"From the East comes chaos and disorder. Cruelty to the point of madness."

Blair saw a short elderly Asian man standing several feet to his left. He wasn't surprised when a tall dark woman with the markings of several African tribes and a broad-shouldered native American man with a face lined with years of pain joined them.

The woman looked at Blair. "Those of my blood still remember the old ways. We will survive."

"None can survive the madness of this chaos for long," the elderly Asian pointed out.

"Victories will be small but will mean much," the native American quietly spoke. He put a hand on Blair's shoulder. "The young Shaman will lead this fight."

"Me?" Startled, Blair moved away. "Whoa...hold on. I...As far as being a Shaman is concerned, I don't really..."

"You know what you need to know," the Asian man quietly assured him. "The knowledge was given to you at birth. It is there...inside you."

"And the rest you will learn," the African woman sternly ordered.

"And what would that be?" Blair snapped.

The native American man threw back his head and howled. "My brother of the wolf clan shows his teeth!" 

"How do you fight the approaching storm, Young One?" the Asian man questioned. "Do you scream your defiance?"

"Do you take shelter?" the African woman offered.

"Do you hunt like your brothers?" the native American man asked.

Blair looked over his shoulder at the swirling ruby clouds. "All," he finally answered. "Each in its own time."

The Asian man bowed his head. "The knowledge is within you."

Blair became aware of spirit animals coming closer. He saw his wolf and Jim's jaguar break from the pack. A young colt, prancing and dancing in excitement, led an eagle, gorilla, and a large serpent to Blair.

Blair reached out to gently stroke the neck of the colt. "I wish things were different," he murmured. "But your sacrifice will not be forgotten, my friend."

The colt reared back and whinnied in protest.

"No," Blair firmly shook his head. "This fight is not yours. Your fight will lie elsewhere in another time. Guard the spirit within you well until then." He looked at the other spirit animals who were encircling the agitated colt . "Lead him, my friends."

Blair watched as the animals escorted the colt into the nearby forest. When he turned around he saw the only Shaman left with him was Incacha.

"What do I do?" Blair quietly asked.

Incacha gently smiled. "My brother spoke the truth. The knowledge is within you." He reached out to tap Blair on the chest. "Listen. Feel. **Believe!** "

Blair heard the mournful cry of the jaguar and spun around. He ran across the field to where the jaguar stood beside the wolf as they stared down into the rushing river below. 

Where before the water had been clean and pure, the clear water rushing over and around the rounded rocks, the water now had streaks of red which stained the rocks.

Angrily, the wolf howled at the approaching storm. Defiantly, Blair howled in unison. Then he looked down into the blue eyes of the jaguar and gasped at the depth of sadness and resignation that he saw in them.

"Jim?" he fearfully murmured.

**"BLAIR!"**

Startled, Blair jerked out of his meditation. On his knees and turning around before he could think, he saw Jim sitting up on the couch, his eyes wide in fear.

Equally startled, Jim reached out and grabbed his partner by the arm.

Before Blair could speak, a burst of wind rattled the windows. Both men turned to look at the approaching thunderstorm.

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

_‘Red sky in morning is a sailor’s warning.’_ The dark-skinned man’s eyes crinkled in amusement. _‘How funny.’_

From the comfort of the deck in the back of his house, he eyed the reddening early dawn sky with contentment. He wished he could be as content with other matters.

“It seems that I have underestimated my opponents,” he ruefully admitted to himself. “And my assistants have become woefully inefficient.” He glanced over his shoulder at the half-open sliding glass door to where the television set was blaring the morning news.

_‘Yesterday, officers of the Internal Revenue Service and the FBI executed arrest warrants for Reverend William Oliver and two of his top assistants, Marcia Felix and Dustin Hart. Search warrant were issued for the headquarters of Reverend Oliver’s religious organization, The Seekers of Faith, as well as for the personal residences of Oliver, Felix, and Hart. The Internal Revenue announced in a press conference that those residences included Oliver’s homes in St. Louis Missouri, Vale Colorado, Hilo Hawaii, and Gatlinburg Tennessee. Requests have been made through Interpol for the search and seizure of property in Switzerland, England, and Italy belonging to Reverend Oliver and the Seekers of Faith. The Internal Revenue and FBI call the searches and arrests the culmination of an intensive investigation in to tax fraud, kidnapping, and other crimes.’_

The man’s dark eyes narrowed in anger. “Miserable fools,” he muttered. Shaking his head, he studied the sky for a few moments. “And that little Shaman wanna-be is going to be more trouble than he’s worth. But soon he’ll have more to worry about than helping those idiot Shamen.”

Restored to good humor, the man took one more look at the sky and thought that it just might be a good day after all.

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

Simon leaned against Joel’s desk as Joel, Megan, Rafe and Henri gathered around him.

"Maybe I'll wait until Dr. Singh gets back to do more talking. Is he on vacation?" Rafe asked.

Simon shook his head. "My understanding is that he may not be back for a while. I heard he may have been diagnosed with cancer."

Joel sadly shook his head. "I hate to hear that. He's a good man. And he's good at his job."

"Yeah, I talked to him after Zeller shot up the place. I told him that I was angry because Zeller had shot Megan and the Captain but he would never stand trial for it. Or for anyone else that he'd killed. Singh looked at me and said 'Well, of course you’re mad at the son-of-a-bitch! He shot up the place! What do you expect?!' So I fell apart laughing." Rafe shook his head with a smile. "Now that's a shrink you can deal with."

Henri patted his partner on the shoulder, then they walked towards the break room.

Chuckling, Megan walked back to her desk.

"Joel, are you and Megan sure you'll be able to cover things here while the rest of us are at the funeral?" Simon asked. “The other departments will be short-handed as well."

"Unless some emergency occurs, we'll be fine," Joel assured him. "And if that emergency occurs, I imagine there will be a lot of beepers and pagers going off during the funeral."

Simon grunted. He saw Jim and Blair enter the bullpen and nodded at Joel before walking to Jim's desk. "You two don't look like you slept any better than I did last night," he quietly remarked.

Jim shrugged as he sat down behind his desk.

Simon glanced at Blair always surprised at the young man's mature looks when he was formally dressed. "How are you doing, Sandburg?" he gently asked.

"I don't know," the younger man admitted. "I guess the funeral will provide some closure." 

Prepared for a quick lecture on the funeral rites of some obscure culture, Simon was surprised when Blair quietly sat next to Jim without saying another word.

"Dr. Pinotti will be available in the conference room both before and after the funeral if  
anyone needs to talk with her," Simon advised. "She felt it might be necessary since emotions are probably going to be running high."

Jim hesitated, then looked up at Simon. "Spencer’s father laid into Ward pretty good last night outside the funeral home. Ward was talking about maybe retiring."

Simon frowned. "I'll have a word with his commander today. He'll probably give him time off. After all, Spencer **was** his partner, if only for a short time."

"We're losing a good man," Jim sadly commented. He turned to activate his computer and monitor.

"We don't know that," Blair quietly protested.

Simon hesitated. "Ward's been on the job a long time. I honestly think cops with that much time behind them know when it's time to step back. Hopefully, it'll be just for a short period of time. But, if not, it's best if he does retire. He's one of the best at training rookies for street work. He can't be second-guessing himself every minute of his shift." When Blair looked like he was going to speak, Simon held up his hand. "I'll keep it unofficial. But Ward's commander needs to know." When Blair nodded, Simon turned and walked towards his office.

_'And another one bites the dust.'_ Jim winced as the song lyrics repeatedly ran through his mind.

"Jim? You okay?"

Jim glanced at his worried partner and nodded. "Just gonna be a bitch of a day, Sandburg."

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

"The death of anyone is regrettable. When it's a tragic death, such as an officer's in the line of duty, we feel that this man's death, however noble, is a waste as well. We regret not only the loss of his life, but we regret the loss of what he might have become and what he might have accomplished. When that person is someone that we personally know, the accompanying grief and regret can be crushing."

"I didn't know him," Jim muttered.

Leigh nodded in silent agreement. "But his death represents a possibility that you find abhorrent. It could have been your partner's death."

Jim stiffened, then jerkily nodded. "Yeah, I guess so." He rubbed his hands together. "Look, I hate it when a cop dies. And, yeah, somebody young like Spencer makes it even worse. But I've handled deaths before."

"And you're wondering why this one is different?" Leigh asked. "Tell me, Detective Ellison, could you have prevented Officer Spencer’s death?"

Jim sighed. "I couldn't have stopped him from running into the line of fire. I don't think I could have taken the shot any faster." He dropped his head into his hands. "But I missed the shot! If I had taken it sooner to try and protect Spencer, I still would have missed!"

"And you didn't prevent your partner's death, did you? When he drowned in Rainier's fountain?" Leigh demanded.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

"No."

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

_‘While I sit here trying to move you anyway I can_  
Someone’s son lies dead in a gutter somewhere  
And it would seem that we’ve got a long long way to go  
But I can’t take it anymore.’ 

Danny Spencer’s funeral at Sacred Heart Catholic Church had been full of dignity and  
ritual. The church had been packed and even more people were in attendance at St. John's Cemetery. As the mournful notes of 'Taps' floated through the quiet atmosphere, members of the Cascade PD stood at attention with a silent salute. 

Blair glanced at his grim-faced partner who stood next to him. Neither of them had slept much the night before. Blair had explained what he'd seen in his visionscape, but Jim denied knowing what had abruptly awakened him.

Blair's attention was momentarily diverted by the muted sobbing of Danny’s mother. Then he stared down at the ground. _'I don't think Jim was lying about not remembering. I think he somehow picked up on what was going on in the visionscape and instinctively woke up to...protect me? From what? And the jaguar wasn't acting normally either.'_

Blair jumped in surprise when the first of the 21-gun salute was fired. He apologetically looked around in silent apology.

Henri slowly winked at him, and Blair quickly looked away to keep from smiling in return.

After the final prayer and benediction, the crowd slowly moved away. Blair saw Neil Ward in the crowd and started towards him. But the man merely waved in Blair's direction and walked away.

"Let him go, Chief."

Blair turned around to see Jim standing behind him. The taller man's eyes were following Ward as he walked towards his car.

"He's got to make this choice on his own."

Blair frowned at the weariness in Jim's voice. "You didn't get much sleep last night, huh?"

"Neither did you," Jim pointed out as he began slowly walking towards his truck.

"Yeah...well..." Blair shoved his hands in his jacket pockets.

The two men walked in silence for a few more steps, then Jim suddenly stopped. "Dad?"

Blair looked up. "Mom?"

The two men quickly walked towards the truck where William Ellison and Naomi Sandburg were waiting.

"Sweetie!" Naomi opened her arms in greeting.

Blair melted into his mother's arms and returned the hug.

"Dad, what are you and Naomi doing here?" Jim quietly asked as he shook his father's hand.

"I called your office and Inspector Conner said you both were attending the funeral," William quietly explained. "I figured this would be the best place to catch up with both of you." He glanced over at Naomi who was gently patting Blair's shoulder. "Naomi has a plane to catch in a couple of hours."

"She's leaving?" Jim softly asked.

William smiled. "She has a cause, son."

"And one that William is helping with," Naomi quietly added. "He's agreed to take over fund raising and finance." She impishly grinned. "Which is a huge weight off not only my shoulders but Moonglow’s as well. She never was any good at math."

"So...uh...you two are...working together?" Blair stammered.

"We're also..."

"Mom!" Blair quickly looked around. "I...we don't need..."

Naomi put a hand on Blair's arm. "We're also the best of friends."

William chuckled, then turned his head and coughed.

Jim briefly smiled. "Where are you off to, Naomi?"

"Guatemala," Naomi answered. "We're bringing in medical and school supplies for several orphanages that our organization has 'adopted'."

"Mom, you be careful," Blair warned.

Naomi put both hands on either side of her son's face. "Do you remember telling me that there were moments that you were born for? That everything in your past led to a certain point in time?" she quietly spoke. When Blair nodded, she smiled. "This is my time, Blair. I feel it. This will be the foundation for everything else we can build with our organization." She hesitated. "Do you understand?"

"You've found your Holy Grail," Blair whispered. He hugged his mother. "Be safe, Mom. Please."

"You too, Sweetie." Naomi kissed her son on the forehead. Then she turned and pulled Jim into a quick hug. "And you be safe, Jim." She stared into his eyes and frowned.

Jim kissed Blair's mother on the cheek. "I will, Naomi. Take care."

Naomi hesitated then took William's hand. "I'll be in touch," she promised.

Blair watched as their parents walked away. "You know, they could be an awesome team."

Jim grunted in response, then patted Blair's shoulder. "Yeah, God help us."

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

“It's like it's just...waiting."

Blair watched the swirling red clouds of his visionscape with more than a little unease.

"You created this place to be one of peace and quiet. Of spiritual meditation. Of joy and happiness." Incacha eyed the clouds with wary consideration. "This one cannot penetrate it. Yet."

Blair silently watched as the wolf ran back and forth in front of him, barking at the clouds in anger and defiance. The jaguar paced him but with his head down. "It's very old, isn't it?" he finally asked Incacha.

The Chopec Shaman nodded, his eyes never leaving the clouds. "Old and powerful. Never to be completely defeated for this one taps into part of the human nature. Many battles have been fought, a few of them epic." He put a hand on Blair's arm. "This is your battle...you and Enquerri."

Blair took a deep breath, then slowly released it. "Belief and faith, huh?" He dropped to the grassy ground beneath him and folded his legs beneath him.

Quietening his thoughts and slowing his breathing, Blair opened his mind, his senses, and his heart to the visionscape around him.

He dimly heard Incacha begin to quietly chant. He saw the wolf jumping into the air as he furiously barked. He felt the jaguar's head in his lap.

_‘Listen. Feel. **BELIEVE!’**_

And Blair tried.

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

_'In my professional opinion, it shouldn't take much more to push the subject in the direction you want him to go. He is questioning not only his capabilities but is also starting to question his judgment. His belief system is also starting to crack. In layman's terms, he is starting to ask himself why he should continue such obviously futile work. He is questioning if he is making any kind of difference. Basically, he is starting to wonder if he should just quit._

_If you wish the subject motivated in another direction, it will take some time; but I feel it could be accomplished. The subject would also be susceptible to increased pressure._

_Let me know if you wish me to proceed with the subject. I would be happy to meet with you to discuss this further.'_

”Oh, I don’t think it’s necessary that we meet, Dr. Pinotti. Not necessary at all.” The dark-eyed man deleted the email, then casually tapped his right forefinger on his desk as he thought. _'Sometimes you fail when you approach a problem head-on. Yes, I think perhaps subtlety is required here. But...first things first.'_

He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a cell phone. His call would be routed through several specially designed cutouts to make it untraceable.

"Kelly."

"Mr. Kelly, I have a couple of jobs for you."

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

Slowly Blair took several deep breaths and forced his muscles to relax. Instead of feeling the soft grassy earth beneath his butt, he felt the hardwood floors of the loft. He rotated his head, wincing at the cracking of his neck. Then he rolled his shoulders and opened his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was that it was dark outside the balcony windows. _'Wonder how long I've been sitting here?'_

But it was when he turned his head that he got the biggest surprise. His mouth opened in surprise and he struggled to catch his breath. "Jim?"

Jim was kneeling next to Blair, wearing the worn jeans he wore when camping and a t-shirt. His face and arms were partially covered with camouflage paint. In his right hand was his gun, and a knife was clenched in his left fist. His blue eyes were fierce and fixed on Blair.

_'Is he zoned? Oh, man, this is **NOTB a good thing!'**_ **Slowly Blair turned so he faced his partner. "Okay, you're not zoned, 'cause your eyes are moving. But you're just really **really**** focused on me, huh?"

Blair rubbed his face with his hands, then shook his head. "Okay, obviously you think there's a huge threat, right? But there's not. Look around, Jim. We're in our own home. Safe and sound. Go ahead and look. You can trust me to keep watch while you do it."

Taking only a second to look to the left and then another second to look to the right, Jim obeyed.

Blair stared at both the gun and knife. "I don't know which one to try to get you to release, but I don't think it's a good thing for me to try and take either of them from you, right? So, why don't you....let go of the gun. Okay? Then the knife? There's nothing here to hurt you. And you know that you can trust me, right? Don't you know that, Jim? I protect you just like you protect me."

Jim began to breathe heavily, then forced both hands to relax. The knife dropped to the floor next to him, and the gun onto the couch.

Blair slowly reached for the gun and clicked the safety. Then he carefully put his hands on Jim's shoulders. "Relax," he murmured. "Relax for me."

Jim exhaled sharply and sat with his back against the couch.

"Okay....okay..." Blair soothingly patted Jim's knee. He glanced at the watch on Jim's wrist. _'I was only meditating for about 3 hours. Something happened during that time to put Jim in Full Alert Sentinel Overdrive.'_ He sat in a more comfortable position. "I saw Incacha in my visionscape. He says 'hi'."

Jim snorted and rubbed his face. He seemed surprised to see camouflage paint on his fingers. "You're full of it, Chief."

"So what did I miss?" Blair carefully asked.

Jim shook his head. "I don't know," he muttered. "You were meditating so I decided to sit on the balcony. There was a nice breeze..." His voice drifted off as he stared past Blair to the balcony.

"Did you see something?"

Jim jerked, returning his gaze to Blair's face. "Yeah. A red sunset."

"We've been having a lot of those lately," Blair commented. He forced a smile. "But you know the old saying, 'Red sky at night; sailor's delight'."

"Bullshit, Sandburg!" Jim exploded. "That's..." He stopped in surprise.

"That's...what?" Blair urged.

"That's a threat. To you." Jim shook his head. "That's ridiculous!"

"Incacha says the same thing," Blair explained. "In my visionscape, there's an approaching storm with deep red swirling clouds. It's driving my wolf crazy, and making your jaguar act funny."

"Funny ha-ha or funny-weird?"

Blair grinned and smacked Jim's knee. "Funny as in following the wolf."

"Oh, shit, we're in big trouble now." Jim sighed as he got to his feet. "I'm taking a shower, eating a sandwich, and then going to bed. A good night's sleep will do wonders for me."

"Jim..." Blair began.

"No!" Jim made a chopping motion with his left hand to silence Blair’s words. "Hand me the knife and gun, please."

Silently, Blair obeyed. He leaned against the couch as he watched Jim head upstairs to replace his weapons. When the phone began to ring, he decided to let the machine pick up the call.

"Jim, Sandburg, I guess you're out."

Blair got to his feet when he heard Simon's voice.

"Thought I should let you both know. I just got word that Dr. Pinotti was killed in an automobile accident this evening. Seems her car was hit head-on by a drunk driver. She was killed instantly, and the other driver was DOA at the hospital."

Blair stared at Jim who was standing half-way down the stairs. He saw shock registered on the Sentinel's face.

"The other thing is probably just as bad but in a different way."

They heard Simon take a deep breath.

"Garret Kincaid was being transferred this afternoon for a court appearance in Seattle tomorrow morning. The convoy was attacked just outside Seattle, and Kincaid escaped. The Seattle PD feels he's probably headed back here." There was silence for a few seconds. "Call me when you get this message."

"It's never going to stop, Blair." Jim sat on the stairs and dropped his head into his hands. "Never."  
  
  
  
  
 _‘While I sit and we talk and talk and we talk some more_  
Someone’s love one’s heart stops beating in a street somewhere  
Sot it would seem we’ve still got a long long way to go, I know  
I’ve heard all I wanna hear today.’


End file.
